


Carnival of Rust

by diddlydang



Series: The Ferdibert Collection [6]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt Ferdinand, M/M, Not Really Character Death, only the first chapter was beta read after that i gave up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2020-10-14 20:07:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20606558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diddlydang/pseuds/diddlydang
Summary: Ferdinand’s eyes flutter open. They’re clouded with pain. Hubert doesn't know how much of this he must be processing because Ferdinand’s eyes aren’t focusing on anything around them.“Ferdinand?” He tries again, teetering on the edge of desperate.In response, a gurgling sound comes from Ferdinand. Not from his mouth, or even his throat. It rattles somewhere deep in his chest.A stone settles in Hubert’s gut.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be a loose expansion of [A Cracked Jewel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20485412), following roughly the same base with a longer plot and changes. 
> 
> Wow okay so I rewrote this and its a lot longer now, enjoy lmao

He puts the box down without saying anything. 

Edelgard’s eyes slowly move over to it. He can pinpoint the exact moment she realizes exactly what it is.

“Hubert,” She says, “If this is a joke, I might kill you.”

“Open it.” He says. 

She puts her quill down and opens the box. “Oh,  _ Hubert.  _ Ferdinand will adore this.”

“Yes, that was the plan.” He says dryly. “Wouldn’t do for him to hate his wedding ring.”

“He would be happy with anything.” She says before rubbing at her eyes. “Oh, I’m so happy for you, Hubert. I’d always worried that you wouldn’t allow yourself to be happy.”

“I would be content spending the rest of my life serving you,” He says. “But… Ferdinand makes me…”

“I know, Hubert,” Edelgard tells him. She closes the box with a small ‘click’ and hands it to him. He pockets it. “I assume you’re asking him soon?”

“As soon as I’m done here.” 

The immediate outrage on her face would be funny  _ if _ it weren’t directed at him. “You’re here when you could be proposing?! Go!”

“Are you-”

“ _ Yes! _ ” She practically screams at him. “Go!”

Laughing, he leaves and heads for Ferdinand’s room. He has no doubt the man is still working, seeing as how both of them had the bad habit of working late into the night and Edelgard had dismissed him early. 

He’s right. The dim glow of candlelight is visible under the doorway. He knocks on the door and waits.

“Come in.” Ferdinand’s voice comes through the wood. 

He steps in and quietly closes the door behind him. Ferdinand hasn’t realized it’s him yet, still looking over letters. Hubert coughs and Ferdinand’s head snaps up. The smile that comes over his face is breathtaking (Hubert has the tendency to think this about anything Ferdinand does, though), and Hubert is struck with how  _ he _ ’s the one who put it there. 

“Hubert!” Ferdinand says before he frowns, “Surely it’s not too late yet.”

Hubert laughs softly, walking towards Ferdinand. “No, I’m not here to drag you to bed. Lady Edelgard has relieved me of my duties for the rest of the evening.” He grabs one of Ferdinand’s hands and gestures to get him up. Ferdinand does, although he still looks a little confused. 

“I’m afraid I’m a little lost.” Ferdinand says, “Did we have plans tonight? Is that why you’re here?”

He can't help the fond sigh that escapes him. “No, Ferdinand.” 

Predictably, this does nothing to persuade Ferdinand, the stubborn fool. “You’re saying no to make me feel better, aren’t you? Edelgard wouldn’t let you off early for no reason, we’re in the middle of war! Is it our anniversary?” The sheer panic on Ferdinand’s face over thinking he forgot their anniversary does funny things to Hubert’s heart. “Oh, Goddess, I’ve forgotten it, haven’t I? Get me one of your poisons, Hubert. I deserve it.”

“Darling, please calm down. You haven’t forgotten our anniversary. I simply need to ask you a question.” Alright, maybe an understatement. But it wouldn’t do to give away the surprise. 

The panic is replaced with more confusion. “A… question. Edelgard released you so you could ask me a question.”

“A very important question.” Hubert agrees. “One that will determine the future.”

“Are you going to stop being vague?” Ferdinand asks him, though he doesn’t look remotely upset. Maybe a bit amused. Hubert takes a breath and tightens his hold on Ferdinand’s hand before going down on one knee. Ferdinand’s eyes go wide with shock and he stares down at Hubert. “Hubert?”

“Ferdie,” He begins, “I know we had a…” He holds back a wince, “A rough start. Maybe one of the worst starts. We couldn’t stand each other at all. But then something happened and suddenly I could only think about how much I love you.” He pulls out the box with his free hand, ignoring how he’s shaking. “Despite everything, you love me too. So I must ask you, will you marry me?”

Ferdinand has tears streaming down his face. He’d always been a sentimental fool. “Hubert, how could I ever say no?”

The giddiness he feels at Ferdinand’s answer is truly despicable. The only thing he can do in response is scramble to his feet and hug him. Ferdinand’s arms are just as quick to wrap around him, his face tucked into Hubert’s neck. Hubert isn’t doing much better, he laughs. 

He’s happy.

They stand there simply embracing one another for some time. Then Hubert remembers he never gave the ring to Ferdinand. He lets go and picks the box up from the ground (he’d accidentally let it go in favor of grabbing Ferdinand.). He takes the ring from it and holds it out to Ferdinand. The other man looks at it before his eyes shift back to Hubert’s face.

“My dear, as much as I would love to put that on my finger, I feel it might…”

Fortunately, Hubert has thought about this. He knew that going out into battle with a ring wouldn’t be the best idea. If his weapon snapped in the battle, he’d run the risk of breaking a finger by throwing a punch. Hubert takes out the chain he got and slips the ring onto it. “You underestimate me, love.”

Ferdinand laughs, “Of course you planned ahead, you brilliant man!”

Hubert flushes. He doesn’t think he will ever get used to Ferdinand’s compliments. He holds the necklace up, “May I?”

Ferdinand turns around brushes his hair over one shoulder. With his neck bared like that, Hubert can’t help himself and presses a light kiss there before putting the necklace on. As soon as it’s hooked, Ferdinand twirls around and hugs Hubert again, although this time his face is buried into Hubert’s chest. He’s not surprised when the front of his shirt grows damp and runs his hands across Ferdinand’s back. 

“I love you,” Ferdinand says. It’s muffled slightly by Hubert’s shirt. “I love you so much, Hubert.”

The amount of affection Hubert felt for him used to scare him. His throat still closes up whenever he hears Ferdinand say such things, but now it’s because he can’t help but get emotional. 

No doubt Ferdinand’s influence. 

He presses his lips to Ferdinand’s head, holding him. There might still be days that he has a hard time accepting that Ferdinand loves him and that he can have this for himself, but he’s learning. And he’ll continue to learn. 

\---

They walk right into an ambush. The Kingdom's (and by extension, the Church's) forces taking them all by surprise, and suddenly it's another fight for their lives.

If Hubert was being completely honest, it was a catastrophe His spies hadn’t been able to inform of this; either they didn’t have enough time to get a message out, or Thales’ own agents in the Kingdom had managed to out-clever Hubert. 

While that may sting at Hubert’s pride, he knows he can’t openly dismiss the idea. As detestable as he might find Those Who Slither in the Dark, it's obvious that whatever technology they have at their disposal is much,  _ much _ more advanced than anything they have. 

He’s with Edelgard, protecting her from any magical attacks that may come her way when he hears Ferdinand scream. He tugs on the reins of his horse harshly, frantically looking around for Ferdinand.

Hubert finds him. And goes very pale very quickly. It’s like all his nightmares have come to life. 

Ferdinand is seated on his own horse, but there’s an ax gouged deep into his chest. Even from where Hubert is he can see the armor Ferdinand wears under his clothes, having been wrenched open by the axe that’s found a new home in his body.

“Hubert, go!” Edelgard shouts at him, raising her shield to block before viciously striking down a Kingdom knight. “Now!”

He doesn’t say anything in response, keeping one hand on the reins so he’s able to eviscerate the man who had thrown the axe. His spell hits the mark, and the familiar smell of burnt ozone and chemical aftertaste it leaves on his tongue only serves to further his rage. 

Ferdinand is somehow still saddled on his horse. He's looking dumbly down at the axe lodged in him and his hands are hovering over it. And then he crumples over, body hitting the ground with a thud.

_ No, no no no no no no no no no no no no- _

Hubert puts his free hand back on the rein, urging his horse even faster.

_ He’s dead _ , he thinks  _ he’s dead he’s dead he’s dead he’s dead  _ and it keeps replaying until he finally gets to where Ferdinand has fallen. Ferdinand’s horse, Duke, is nosing at Ferdinand’s face. Hubert gets off his own and nudges Duke out of the way, hands fluttering over Ferdinand. 

_ I don’t know what to do _ , he’s panicking and he knows that's the worst thing he could do, that if he panics any more then it might kill Ferdinand. 

So he breathes out and looks over the damage. 

It’s…

Seeing out up close is so much worse. He has to force himself to keep looking, to try and figure out what the biggest problem is because of how sick he feels. Ferdinand’s chest has become a grisly, gory mess of bone matter, tissue, flesh, and metal. He can’t tell where Ferdinand’s armor starts and Ferdinand’s body begins because of how warped everything is. 

“Ferdinand,” Hubert manages, “Ferdinand, are you with me?”

Ferdinand’s eyes flutter open. They’re clouded with pain. Hubert doesn't know how much of this he must be processing because Ferdinand’s eyes aren’t focusing on anything around them. 

“Ferdinand?” He tries again, teetering on the edge of desperate. 

In response, a gurgling sound comes from Ferdinand. Not from his mouth, or even his throat. It rattles somewhere deep in his chest. 

A stone settles in Hubert’s gut. 

“I have to remove the axe in order to perform a healing spell,” Hubert says. “It will hurt.”

Ferdinand’s gaze slides over to him. Blood starts dripping out of his mouth and that horrible noise comes out of him again. Hubert pushes his fear down and grabs the axe, the sturdy feeling of it making him even more nauseous. Then he moves a hand to press against Ferdinand’s abdomen, bracing. 

He pulls.

The noise Ferdinand lets out will haunt him for the rest of his days.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” He repeats as he continues to pull the axe free, pressing insistently down on Ferdinand to make it easier. “I know, darling, I’m so sorry.”

The axe is finally wrenched free with a  _ ‘squelch’  _ and he chucks it to the side before conjuring up the strongest healing spell he knows. He pours all the faith he’s ever felt, his faith in Edelgard, in Ferdinand, in the future they’re trying to build, and in his friends. He pours all of this and all his love into the spell. 

Ferdinand’s chest starts to stitch itself back together. It’s slow, and by the sounds Ferdinand keeps making (the ones he keeps apologizing for,  _ Goddess, Ferdie, he’s so sorry, _ ) it hurts. “I know, I know. I’m sorry.”

And then it stops. The pale yellow light emitting from his hand flickers out.

It’s healed all of the deep damage, Hubert would guess, but it’s still an open wound that could kill Ferdinand if it goes much longer without attention. His hands are still lit up in a spell and he tries to get it them to do more, he needs it to do more when a hand gently grasps his wrist. 

“Hubert, love,” Ferdinand says. His eyes are clear now, but he speaks like he’s about to fall asleep. “You’ve, ah,” He coughs. “You’ve never had the best grasp on healing spells.”

“It’s almost there.” He flexes his cursed fingers, begging them to do something, anything. “I can do it, you’ll be fine.”

Ferdinand’s fingers twitch where they lay in the grass. “Hubert,” Ferdie says gently, “Go get Linhardt. He can, can fix this.” 

“You might die,” Hubert’s voice cracks in the middle of the sentence. His eyes sting. “If I leave, you might die.”

“Yes,” Ferdinand agrees. “Yes, that is... That is true. But you can’t finish this.”

Hubert refuses to believe he can’t do anything. He tears off part of his cape and wraps it around the wound. “We’ll get you on a horse and find him. I won’t leave you here.” _I can’t leave you here._ _Please don’t make me. Please._

To his dismay, Ferdinand shakes his head. “We both know that… that will only reopen what you’ve closed. The ride will… It will jostle me too much.”

Hubert hates it when Ferdinand is right. 

This time is no different. 

“If you die when I’m gone, I’ll kill you.” He growls. “I swear to the Goddess, Ferdinand.”

“Ohh…” Ferdinand's smile flickers like a dying candle. “That’s… terrifying… I’ll endeavor to stay alive then…” 

Hubert presses a kiss to Ferdinand's sweaty forehead before getting on his horse and scanning around for Linhardt. 

He rides around for what feels like hours before he finally spots Linhardt.

“Linhardt!” He shouts, “Come here! Ferdinand needs you!”

Linhardt’s face is hard, but part of the mask always falls away whenever one of theirs is hurt. Hubert waits for Linhardt to come over before steering his mount back in Ferdinand’s direction.

“What happened?” Linhardt asks him.

“Axe to the chest.” 

A cough, “Did you heal it?”

Hubert keeps himself from screaming. Barely. “As much as I could.”

“Not to be offensive but I do hope that means most of the-” Linhardt makes a retching sound “-The blood is gone.”

“If you’d seen the original wound, I think you would have had a heart attack.”

“Then I thank you.” Linhardt says. 

He rounds the trees where he’s left Ferdinand, the need to see him nearly suffocating-

The entire area is on fire. 

“Please tell me you didn’t leave him here,” Linhardt says. 

The wind carries the acrid smell of burnt flesh. It sticks to him.

Hubert stares. 

“I…” He swallows. His grip on the reins is beginning to hurt. “This is where he was.”

He doesn’t turn to see the look on Linhardt’s face. He doesn’t  _ want  _ to see the look on Linhardt’s face. 

“Well, he’s a determined fellow, isn’t he? He’s likely dragged himself somewhere safe.” Linhardt says. The optimism feels out of place.

Hubert thinks he might have taken on some of Ferdinand’s traits because he can only hope that Linhardt’s optimism is right. He needs it to be. 

The fire is easily taken care of with a quick spell from Linhardt, the only thing remaining a few dancing cinders. Hubert longs to help, but he  _ can’t  _ do anything because his fucking fingers are still numb from his magic expenditure. 

He goes to where he left Ferdinand. There’s no trace of his horse, but what is there causes him to crash to his knees and he’s once more stung by the feel of tears in his eyes. 

Hubert wants to scream. He wants to sob. He wants to rage at the world and everything that exists in it because the scene is so horribly wrong. 

Instead of Ferdinand, there's a charred body. Nothing on it is distinguishable because of how bad the burns are, some stray bits of cloth and metal. These are inconsequential details that don’t matter to Hubert. It’s one small thing that catches his attention.

A glint around the neck. A chain with a ring on it.

“No.” His heart drops from his chest and onto the charred earth below his feet. Where Ferdinand is. “No.”

He hears Linhardt’s armor clank as he gets off his horse. “Oh,  _ Goddess _ .”

“No,” He takes the necklace off from around the neck and presses it to his lips. “Oh, Ferdie…”

It tastes like ash. 

“Who would have done this?” Linhardt is disgusted, “What does this… this brutality accomplish?”

Hubert knows exactly who did this. This is a message for him. From Thales. It must be. He’d foolishly thought he’d taken enough precautions. He’d thought that he'd be able to keep all the backlash from the war against Those Who Slither in the Dark contained to him. 

Ferdinand’s death is a direct result of his hubris. 

He knew he shouldn’t have left him here. 

He did it to save his life. And by doing so, he ended it. 

Hubert’s not sure how long he’s kneeling in the ashes, clutching a ring over his dead fiance, but eventually, Edelgard’s hand rests on his shoulder. 

“Hubert,” She sounds tired. “We need to go.”

He nods robotically, putting the chain into one of his pockets and grabs the lance that was lying a few yards away. It’s obviously Ferdinand’s, the meticulously cared for metal gleams even through scorch marks. It feels heavy in his hands like it doesn’t understand why Hubert is the one holding it.

“Do we know where Duke is?” He asks. 

“I have him.” Lorenz says quietly. 

“Good.” Hubert tries to keep the waver out of his voice. The silver of the lance sneers up at him. 

It feels like Ferdinand taunting him from beyond the grave. 

\---

  
  


Hubert doesn’t remember the march back to the Monastery. He feels half-dead. Maybe someone said something to him and maybe he said something back. Whatever is said, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t care. 

When they get back to Garreg Mach, they disperse in groups, each of them seeking comfort with those closest to them. Hubert is left with Edelgard.

As much as he loves his friends, he’s glad they’ve given him some space and left him with her. 

“Hubert,” She says, “Go get some rest.”

“They did this.” He says instead. “ _ They _ did this.”

She looks at him. He sees the same pain in her eyes as he has countless times before. The same pain that’s given her the push to fix the world. The same pain he saw when she returned from the kingdom after  _ they _ did those things to do her, when the Professor had been lost to them. 

Then she hugs him. It’s difficult with how much smaller she is, but they always found a way to make things work. “Take some time.” She says, “For me.”

“I will… try.” He says. “Although I think I would rather do work than have to…”  _ Face reality. Be stuck in an empty room.  _

Edelgard holds on for one more second before letting go, choosing to grab one of his hands. “I know that. Take at least a day. After that, if you still want to go back to work, I’ll allow it.”

“Thank you, Lady Edelgard.” He swallows before speaking again. “Ah… I would also like Ferdinand’s work.” 

“Hubert-”

“At least some of it. Please.”  _ Please. _

She gives him a look. It’s stuck somewhere between reluctance and worry. “Okay.”

“Thank you.”

He will take every bit of Ferdinand he can have back.

\---

Their room is as empty as he knew it would be. 

It feels like a ghost is hanging over his shoulder every minute he’s in there, but at the same time he can’t bear to take himself away from the only remnants of Ferdinand he has left. Armor polish sits on the nightstand, a clean cloth Ferdinand had put there just this morning. “In case it gets dirty,” he’d said with a smile. His dimples had been out and Hubert had kissed them, drinking in Ferdinand’s bright laughter.

Old gauntlets and greaves are in Ferdinand’s designated ‘corner’ of the room. It’s a messy collection of ruined parts and old weapons that Ferdinand liked. Hubert had always called it an eyesore but it’s now that he can’t bring himself to look at it.

Hubert places the lance back on its pedestal. It’s still dirty. He’ll clean it later, Ferdinand would hate seeing how tarnished it was. He sits on the bed and takes his gloves off before pulling out Ferdinand’s necklace. Hubert can’t feel the cold press of the metal against his fingers, he’d long lost his sense of touch, but…

He’d hoped this time he’d be able to feel it.

Clutching it, he feels the sobs work their way up his body and he presses his fist against his forehead, the sounds emptying into the quiet room. 

This is all he has left. 

\---

He went back to work the next day, but in his free time he looked over the letter he and Ferdinand exchanged. It had started early in their relationship. Ferdinand, bless his heart, couldn’t handle hearing how much Hubert loved him in words, so Hubert remembered back when he requested compliments in letters and began doing that. 

It had worked. He can remember the delighted look on Ferdinand’s face when he’d given him the first letter. 

_ “What is this?” Ferdinand had looked down at it, an adorable wrinkle between his brows. “A… letter?” _

_ Hubert had chuckled. He remembers how warm, how  _ happy _ he’d felt. “I thought that obvious.” _

_ Ferdinand’s face flushed in response and he’d pouted. “Oh, just tell me what’s in it!” _

_ ‘Oh,’ Hubert had thought, ‘I will enjoy this,’ The joy must have shown on his face because Ferdinand look on edge.  _

_ “My dearest Ferdinand,” Hubert beings, still holding out the letter. “I write this letter to tell you how much I love you. I fear that you will faint if I were to say this out loud, so I-” He’s stopped as hands slap over his mouth. Ferdinand’s face is dark red. He also looks a little unsteady.  _

_ “Stop! You are right, my heart is already beating dangerously fast.” Despite this, Ferdinand’s smile was so incredibly brilliant when he dropped his hands to grab the letter. His hands shake. “I’ll read it after you leave, otherwise I’m afraid it’ll have the same outcome.” _

_ “Ferdinand, you look like you’re about to keel over.” _

_ He gets a sour look for that, “And who’s fault is that?” _

_ “ _ You  _ insisted on knowing what was in the letter. I was going to let you be embarrassed in peace.”  _

_ “Then go!” Ferdinand laughed.  _

He smiles at the memory and thumbs through all the envelopes. They’re in chronological order. Despite Ferdinand’s haphazard room tendencies, he’d been adamant about keeping these sorted. 

If he hadn’t, Hubert would have, so it makes no big difference. 

It’s hard reading a lot of them because it’s so easy to hear Ferdinand reading them. A couple of times throughout their relationship, Hubert would wake up to Ferdinand reading them aloud to him. He’d never told Ferdinand, unwilling to risk him stopping out of embarrassment. These used to be cherished memories of his - they still are - but it  _ hurts _ him now.

He still isn’t tired when he can’t bring himself to read anymore. 

Hubert’s sleeping tendencies have always been horrible. They’d gotten better when Ferdinand had moved into his room, seeing as he suddenly had a  _ very _ good reason to go to bed. 

But now the usually warm and cozy bed is cold and lonely. 

He falls into his old habits off checking the perimeter, doing other trivial things to occupy his time. All his normal until he comes across the dining hall and there’s a faint light coming from one of the open doorways. He steps in only to be greeted with Dorothea and Lorenz, idly drinking wine with an assortment of food around them. 

Dorothea raises a glass in greeting. “Hubie,” She says, “Come join us.”

He stands in the doorway for a few seconds before quietly sitting down across from them. 

She idly twirls her wine glass. “We were talking about Ferdie,” She says,“These sorts of things are easier with friends, don’t you think?”

“I… suppose they are.” He says. 

Lorenz pours him a glass of wine. It might be the nicest thing Lorenz has ever done for him. “He would talk about you for  _ hours _ .”

That gets his attention. “Ferdinand did?”

“Yes,” The two of them say in unison, a sort of fond exasperation that Hubert is  _ all  _ too familiar with.

“Back in the academy, it was always about what you’d done to anger him in some way or he’d run by his newest insult he’d thought up. Then, 5 years later, it’s suddenly ‘He mentioned my hair, Lorenz. Do you think he likes it?’ I got so sick of hearing about you.” Even as he says it, Lorenz’s eyes are kind when he looks at him. 

Hubert gives a small laugh. Lorenz’s impression of Ferdinand is pretty accurate. “That sounds like him.”

“And he mentioned love letters once,” Dorothea says thoughtfully. “Although, he never elaborated on that one.”

The thought warms Hubert’s heart. He knew that Ferdinand gossiped with just about everyone who would listen and he wouldn’t have minded if Ferdinand had told them about the contents of their letters, but the fact that the words exchanged remain solely between the two of them is…

It makes Hubert happy. 

“Did the two of you actually write each other love letters?” Lorenz asks as he takes a sip from his wine.

“Yes,” Hubert tells him “Although I won’t tell you what was said in them. That was… just for us.”

“Hubie, that’s surprisingly romantic!”

_ You have no idea _ , he thinks about what he’d written.  _ That man turned me into a blubbering fool. _

“I’m a man of many talents,” is the safest thing for him to say. They both roll their eyes at him so he can safely assume that there’s no way for him to convince them that he’s not secretly a closet romantic. 

They spend the rest of the night exchanging stories about Ferdinand. Hubert doesn’t share nearly as many, preferring to keep the private ones to himself, but watching both Dorothea and Lorenz drunkenly impersonate Ferdinand in their tales is comforting. As time goes on, other people come and join them and more stories are told. It eventually turns into everyone’s recounts of Hubert’s and Ferdinand’s awkward courtship; and while this embarrasses Hubert, he can’t deny the comfort this whole thing brings him. 

Hubert has been grateful for the little family they’ve all made before, but never quite as much as at this moment. 

\---

They make a tombstone for him, every one of them etching their own message onto it. 

There’s a small ceremony, nothing really extravagant. When the war was over they’ll hold a proper funeral march, as Ferdinand deserved, but Hubert knows this private one will mean more for all of them than any other one will.

Edelgard commands him to take more breaks. He makes himself a cup of coffee and brews some southern fruit blend. Then he goes to the greenhouse and picks some flowers. Most times he goes with sunflowers, but he changes it up sometimes. 

Then he heads to the graveyard, cups and flowers in hand, and he rests against it. Most of the time, someone will come and join him (the most frequent one to sit with him is Bernadetta. She’ll bring a new embroidered flower for Ferdie, bless her heart.) and sometimes words will be exchanged and sometimes they’ll simply mourn together silently. 

It’s comforting. 

\---

Somewhere else, a man is being chained up. His chest poorly wrapped, and his auburn hair tangled and matted with blood and dirt. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha,,,,,,been a while since this fic got touched huhhhhh
> 
> shes back now, and better than ever!!! and she'll be DONE


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayyyyyyyy enjoy lads

He’s barely conscious when they string him up, aware enough to have a vague idea of what’s happening but he can’t do anything to stop it. His hands are above his head and the strain is turning his wound into a festering pile of agony. 

It’s still wrapped by a torn piece of Hubert’s cloak. It’s come loose in the travel to wherever he is. It’s stopped the bleeding. That means he’ll stay alive longer, and the longer he can hold on means Hubert and the others will have more time to come and find him. 

Ferdinand will go through any pain to see his family again. 

The room he’s in is pitch black. He can’t see himself when he looks down, but he’s not even sure he wants to. If any part of his injury were on display, he doesn’t want to see it. He would probably faint. 

Take the victories where you can. 

No one has come to see him yet. Or he doesn’t think they have. For all he knows there could be people in the room with him. But he’s powerless in this situation. Injured and imprisoned, he hangs his head and waits. 

They’ll come for him. He has no doubts. 

\---

“It’s no use hoping. They believe you to be dead.” He jerks his head up, ignoring the protesting his body gives him and tries to make out anyone in the darkness. He can’t. “And they have no reason to think otherwise.”

“Hubert knows I’m not dead,” Ferdinand says. He’s sure of it. “He’ll know something is wrong when finds no body.”

“They found a body.” The man sounds unworried. “We razed the ground you were at and left one for them to find.”

That explains his memories of sweltering heat. “I sincerely doubt Hubert would believe that is me.”

“Yes, he is… annoying that way. But you made our job very easy, von Aegir. A ring is easily moved.”

Bastards took his wedding ring. “Hubert won’t be fooled that easily.”

“You have such confidence in them?”

“Of course.”

There’s no verbal response this time, and he thinks whoever was in the room with his left, then there’s gauntleted hand settling on his shoulder, and he can smell the burn of dark magic, the bitter taste settles on his tongue before-

His muscles spasm in response to the vile magic. He jerks, wrists straining against the shackles. The movement causes the pain to flare up in his chest. Just as soon as it had started, it stopped. His fingers tingle after the rush of magic. Deep breaths dig deep into his chest. He can’t breathe-

The air around him bubbles and he’s hit again. 

And again.

And again. 

Ferdinand can feel the windup of the next spell, but before it starts his blood burns and his Crest appears in front of him, casting a shallow light before it fizzles back out of existence. The stench of black magic is obliterated and the hand thrown away from him.

“Cichol’s blood.” The man says. Something in his tone puts Ferdinand on edge. It’s the same tone Hubert has whenever he talks about something he’s excited about. In a horrible moment of clarity, he sees in him what their enemies see in Hubert. “It can block attacks? How interesting. I wonder what it takes for your blood to summon it.”

Ferdinand’s heart is pounding in his chest, roaring in his ears. His blood still boils from the use of his crest.

He passes out. 

\---

Ferdinand’s life has become a game of ‘How much can he take before his Crest activates?’ It turns out he can take a lot. The first time must have been a combination of his stress and the initial shock of magic. They take longer to produce the same results. 

But it still happens. He’ll be shaking from adrenaline and a fire will light up in his veins before the same hazy image he’d grown up seeing comes into focus. It doesn’t give off a lot of light when it appears, and even then it’s a very brief time. 

It’s in these flashes where he can see them. Black masks and black robes. 

These are what stalk his nightmares. 

\---

“Who are you?” Ferdinand wheezes as the cry of Banshee finishes echoing in the room. He gets no response and tries again, pleading, “Who are you?”

Black masks flicker as his Crest flares. There is no expression to them. They fade back into darkness, consuming all light. 

“Please.” His head feels like it’s been trampled. “Tell me.”

There is no response from them, only the cackling sound of Mire before it pops and he screams. 

\---

He doesn’t know how long he’s been here. How long it’s been since he was last with everyone. Maybe it’s foolish of him, but he hopes its only been a few days. Maybe a fortnight at most. 

Ferdinand had hoped they’d have found him by now. 

He holds on. 

\---

There’s not much for him to do. 

Most of his time is spent thinking about his friends. And out of all, a majority of it is spent on Hubert. 

_“Ferdinand, I… I have something to request of you,” Hubert said when their break was nearly up. He usually let Ferdinand talk about whatever happened to him that day, but he seemed distracted today. Ferdinand suspects Hubert is going to tell him whatever’s been bothering him. _

_“Of course, Hubert.” He said. It’s so unlike Hubert to open up without Ferdinand’s prodding. “I would be glad to help you in any way I can.”_

_“Oh?” Hubert chuckles and the sound warms Ferdinand’s heart. “In any way?”_

_The way Hubert said it made Ferdinand suspicious. He set his tea down and squinted at him. “Are you going to ask me to poison someone?”_

_He gets a sharp laugh for that one. “What? No.”_

_What else does Hubert do? “Kill someone? Fake a death?”_

_“No, Ferdinand.”_

_“Become the new spymaster?”_

_“Ferdinand. That’s my job.”_

_He huffed. “Maybe you’ve gotten sick of it! We all must go through new experiences in life.”_

_“I’m not giving you my job.”_

_“Oh, good! I don’t think I’d be very good at it, if I’m being frank. What do you need?”_

_Hubert set his coffee down and took one of Ferdinand’s hands in both of his. Ferdinand looked back-and-forth between Hubert’s face and where their hands are joined on the table. _

_“Ferdinand, would you… would you give me the honor of courting you?”_

_Ferdinand’s brain shut down. “I-” Goddess, smite him. Hubert’s just asked him the most wonderful thing and all he can do is stutter like a complete fool! He tries to say something, anything, but his mouth opens and closes uselessly as he stares at Hubert. To his mortification, he can feel a blush break out across his face. Hubert’s smile stretches a little wider at the sight. _

_“My, my. Ferdinand von Aegir lost for words? I never thought I’d see the day.” Hubert teases. He’s still holding Ferdinand’s hand. _

_The familiar banter is enough to restart his brain. “You caught me off guard! How could I react any other way?”_

_“I had three different predictions. One, you faint. Two, you cry. Three-”_

_“Are there any of these scenarios where I say yes?”_

_Hubert has dimples when he smiles, Ferdinand noticed. It’s something he would never have guessed. His cheeks had taken on a rosy hue. “Ideally, all of them end that way.” Hubert murmured. _

_“Yes.” Ferdinand said. “I mean - I give you permission.” He laughs, “Actually, I’d been trying to ask you the same thing for some time.”_

_Hubert squeezed his hand before he let go and leaned back into his seat. “Yes, I noticed.”_

_Sometimes Ferdinand thought Hubert could be a real bastard. “And you never thought to, I don’t know, say something?”_

_Hubert took a careful sip of his coffee. “I just did.”_

_“Goddess, you are a terrible man. You’re lucky I love you.”_

_“Yes,” Hubert said, the softest Ferdinand had ever heard him say anything. “I am.”_

He misses Hubert. He misses everyone. His heart aches from how much. 

Ferdinand may no longer be a follower of the Church, but he prays. 

\---

He doesn’t know how frequently he’s visited. He wants to say it’s a lot, but the fact that they only come to hurt him might make him biased. It’s not always the man who first visited him. In fact, he’s been fairly absent for Ferdinand’s entire stay here. 

Most of the time, it’s more black magic. He’s shocked and burnt until his Crest blocks something, then it continues. Ferdinand won’t pretend to understand how it works. All he knows is that it didn’t come out nearly as much before. Maybe it’s the constant abuse of it, he doesn’t know. 

He really doesn’t want to know.

For more times than he cares to count, he wishes he at least knew who even had him. He wonders if Hubert knew who they were. He hopes he does. Maybe that means he’ll find him sooner. 

(Part of him thinks Hubert won’t be coming. If they’d successfully tricked Hubert into thinking he’d died, then there’s no hope. He has no chance at getting out of here.

Another part of him also thinks if Hubert knows who they are, he hasn’t shared that knowledge with Ferdinand. Which is fine, he’s allowed his secrets. Ferdinand knew there would be things he wouldn’t be privy to going into the relationship. )

He prays more. 

(He knows his prayers won’t be answered.)

\---

It’s not always magic. 

Sometimes they go to cut into him and his crest stops them. Other times they cut into him and he bleeds and they collect the blood he spills. 

\---

They’ve done something to him. 

He hasn’t felt right ever since he’s been shackled up, but he’s never felt so off before. Whatever they’ve done, it’s made him sick. Really sick. He feels cold, the cold that burrows its way into your bones. In combination to how his blood teeters between burning and searing, it’s a disconcerting feeling.

The only good thing to come out of this - and there’s not much - is that the experiments have stopped. They come down and make sure he’s not dead, but there’s no magic. 

Ferdinand doesn’t know how long this lasts. It could be 2 days or 2 weeks. However long it is, he’s grateful for the respite it grants him. 

If there’s one thing he’s good at doing, it’s seeing the good in the bad. 

\---

It passes. 

The bone-numbing cold has left him and it’s back to the normal routine. 

Ferdinand tries to think about how he still burns inside. 

\---

Interestingly enough, he doesn’t get hurt as often anymore. His Crest activates more and more now, stopping much of what they try to do. 

This should be good news to Ferdinand. But he can only think of how this must be what they wanted. 

Ferdinand thinks about Flayn. She’d been taken in back during the academy and had her blood taken. Because of ‘special properties. Her Crest, he assumes. 

_Did they do this to her? _He wonders as black masks flash. _Is this what we saved her from? _

A thought creeps up on him, unwanted and venomous. _Why haven’t they come for me?_

\---

In some of the quiet moments, when the only thing he hears is the song in his blood, he thinks, _I cannot blame them for not knowing I’m still alive._

It would be unfair of him, he knows. There is a war raging that will reshape the world as they know it, and if they believe he’s dead, there’s no time for second guessing. The resources available are limited and cannot be wasted on a dead man. Ferdinand understands this, he even accepts it. He will die here and he will have suffered and no one will know. No one will care. 

The tears come unbidden, leaving salty trails down his face. His wrists heave against his restraints as he sobs. It echoes around the room, the sound his sole companion. 

\---

“Why?” He moans out after the dark magic wracks his body, “Why can we not be done with this? Why am I still alive?”

The response he gets is the whine of Banshee. He tenses instinctually, but it never touches him. 

None of the other spells they cast touch him. His Crest stands defiant against them. 

His blood burns instead. It feels like he’s being torched from the inside. It’s worse than the black magic, it’s so much worse. Ferdinand isn’t one to cry from pain, but for every time that blasted symbol shimmers in the air, he lets out a tear. 

\---

His chest tickles. 

_My hair must have gotten longer. _

He could probably try to guess how long it’s been based on how much longer it feels. 

Instead, he closes his eyes and tries to sleep. Cichol’s mark and masks are stained into the blackness behind his eyelids. 

\---

Then there’s a shift. 

_They’ve left me here._

It hurts Ferdinand to think, Goddess, does it hurt him, but he’d known this would happen. He wishes that the bitter feeling he feels isn’t from him, that it’s just another result from whatever these people have done to him, but it’s not. These feelings are his fault. 

All the time he has is poisonous. It gives time for thoughts to stew and fester, time for him to grow resentful. Intrusive thoughts skitter around his head like cockroaches he’s not able to kill. 

It might be the worst form of torture they’ve done to him. 

If they had killed him earlier, he would have died without such things plaguing his heart. Instead, he will die feeling these horrible things. 

Ferdinand tries to push them back, but it still lingers in the back of his head, like a bad taste you can’t quite rid from your mouth, that nightmare that lurks on the brink of your mind. 

Barely noticeable to where he can almost convince himself he doesn’t think it. 

But he does. 

  
  


\---

The man comes back for the second time. Cichol shines and magic is deflected. 

Ferdinand burns. 

It happens again. 

And again. 

And again. 

Ferdinand’s body aches from the inside, each vein adding to his anguish. 

“No magic will touch you?” And a sound that Ferdinand used to be intimately familiar with, one he hadn’t heard in so long. The sound of a sword being drawn, the zip of it parting the air. 

The Crest burns. Metal deflects off it and thrown back. Steel clatters across the floor. Another sword is drawn and his Crest shines again. 

A hum. “It’s done.”

“Who are you?” He asks. They press a cloth over his mouth and he’s out. 

\---

He wakes up on the ground. There're no shackles on him anymore. He can only assume that his purpose to them is done. 

Ferdinand is free. 

_I can get out of here. Get back to Hubert._ He puts his hands under him and pushes onto his feet. He gets onto his feet for around 2 seconds before they give out and he’s back on the floor. _Get up, Ferdinand. It’s not that hard._

He tries again and falls back down. 

_I won’t die like this. Get up. _

(This is familiar, a memory of his. He’s young, not yet smart enough to stop himself. He says something to his father. Then he’s on the ground and his back burns, the crack echoing through the room.

He couldn’t get back up after that, either.)

Ferdinand doesn’t even know where the exit is. The room is still too dark for him to see anything and he can’t make his legs work. _Where is the door? _

_Goddess, smite me. _He can’t get up. He _needs _to get up. _Please, help me. _

Like all the other times, there’s no answer for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a minor side note, the way I interpreted Crests is that that they react when the bearer is under more emotional stress and has higher adrenaline.
> 
> I also feel like things with such great power have a drawback, so it burns them to use it.

**Author's Note:**

> [My twitter!](https://twitter.com/Diddlydang1)


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